So Happy To Be Home
by LadyBethDixon
Summary: One-Shot: Beth makes it to Alexandria after being shot and left for dead and a Bethyl reunion ensues.


A/N: Here's a little one-shot that's been knocking around my head for a while. I'm not 100% happy with it but I need to just post it and move on. Hope you enjoy!

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"Here, this room's free," Glenn said, holding open the door to the spare bedroom in the house he and Maggie shared with a shaking hand.

"Quickly, on the bed," Carol directed, "Lay her out flat." She wrenched back the thin covers and threw the extra pillows to the floor, shuffling around Rick and Abe as they followed her instructions. She blinked hard, her mind struggling to catch up with the evidence of her own eyes as she took in the still figure. Moving forward after Abe withdrew from the room, she started to remove the tattered, filthy outer layers of the girl's clothing, wincing as the exposed skin revealed bruises and scratches.

Carol raised her eyes, turning her head slightly to look up at Rick. He was staring at the scratches and slowly his eyes met hers. Knowing the question he couldn't bring himself to ask, Carol shook her head and murmured quietly, "No fever." A balloon seemed to deflate in him and he nodded once, backing away from the bed side so Carol could continue her ministrations.

She fussed over the clothes, cleaned off the girl's pale cheeks as best she could with a small bowl of lukewarm water Glenn had retrieved for her before he disappeared again. She could hear Maggie's sobs emanating from the other room and the gentle shushing Glenn repeated over and over in attempts to calm her. They were all shaken, dumbfounded and completely shocked by what they'd just witnessed. No one could have anticipated this happening and even thinking about how they'd left her behind to have to fend for herself… well, it was too much for Carol to even try to absorb.

Focusing on her patient in an attempt to silence her slurry of thoughts, Carol finished wiping all smudges of dirt and God knew what else from the girl's arms and face, the rag now a dingy brown in muddy water. She started to remove the girl's boots, so familiar and both heels worn down almost through to the sole. How had she managed to make it this far, in this condition? She glanced at the sweet face of the girl she'd once known and then quickly shoved the guilt away to be dealt with later as she forced herself to refocus back to removing her boots, tugging them off and finding filthy socks turned gray beneath. Inside a sock was tucked a small knife, no bigger than Carol's palm, folded in two. She flicked it open, examining the blade and noting the small nicks in the metal, before setting it aside.

The blade, the boots, they combined in her mind, roaring to life as she came to an obvious conclusion. Why had no one thought of this before now, she questioned herself frantically. The moment they'd seen that impossible, blonde figure collapse just outside the walls they should've sent someone looking. She climbed hastily to her feet, rushing from the room, her eyes scanning the anxious, confused, shocked faces now gathered in the small living area of the house. She found Rick standing near the bedroom door, his eyes focused hard on the scratched wood floor at his feet while he ran a hand repeatedly back and forth over his head. As she hurried to him and he raised haunted eyes to meet hers.

"Daryl," She said in a rush, "He doesn't know." Understanding dawned on Rick and he nodded once as she said, "We need to tell him. Now."

"We'll find him," Rick agreed, motioning to a few members of their group hovering nearby to follow him as he headed for the door.

Carol watched him go, her heart racing as she imagined what this would mean for her friend, what this could mean for them all. She turned, heading back into the bedroom to wait, eyes focusing again on the prone girl who, in an instant, had changed everything.

Rick had the group he'd gathered spread out, demanding that if anyone found Daryl that they were to bring him to Rick and no one was to say anything about the girl in Glenn's house. He wanted to be the one to tell him, to break the news. He had a feeling Daryl wouldn't believe anyone else, probably wouldn't even believe him until he saw her for himself.

Knowing if his brother was anywhere he'd be near the walls, working on his bike in preparation for another run or scouting mission with Aaron, Rick sent the others in every other direction, hoping he was right. He made straight towards the towering walls and the small workshop Daryl spent most of his time in nowadays, trying to figure out what to say, what he could say.

It wasn't long before he caught a glimpse of shaggy dark hair bent over the monster of a bike, the fat tires obscuring the rest of his body. Rick let out a sharp whistle, drawing Daryl's attention as he approached. Daryl rose to his feet, reaching for the ever present rag in his back pocket, a faded blue today, and wiped his hands free of grease as he watched Rick approach.

"Was just gettin' ready to head out," Daryl said when Rick was within earshot, his tone slightly annoyed at the interruption. He tossed the rag onto the seat of the bike as he reached behind an ear to retrieve a cigarette, lighting it up after several rapid clicks of a nearly dead lighter.

"You're gonna want to stay," Rick replied, stopping just in front of the bike to look his friend dead in the eye.

Daryl met his gaze, sharp eyes scanning Rick's expression and posture, before glancing around them, obviously looking for the source of all this solemnity. The cigarette hung absently from his lips as the smoke curled upwards and for a second Daryl was just still, his body tensed as he took a moment to steel himself for whatever horrible news Rick had come to deliver.

Finally he returned his gaze to Rick, releasing a thicker stream of smoke into the air. "Why," He asked quietly, voice going rough in anticipation of Rick's answer.

Rick paused, wishing there was an easier way, fidgeting a little with the hilt of his gun as he shifted his weight. Finally he answered simply, "Beth's alive."

He watched Daryl's face, watched it go cold, watched it go still. Slowly, his brother began to shake his head back and forth, dismissing the statement so bluntly delivered, scoffing derisively as a cold rage rose from deep inside where he'd buried it for the past few months, after Atlanta, after he'd lost the last good thing he'd had. He began to pace, just a few steps back and forth, like he was caged, like the only thing keeping him from beating the shit out of his best friend were the few flimsy pieces of humanity that still remained, that kept him from turning wild and rabid and running into the trees to never return.

He spun towards Rick suddenly, flicking his wrist violently at his friend as he spat, "You shittin' me?" His voice was almost shrill, barely disguising a ring of panic and he paced a few more times before adding, "You don't fuckin' talk about her. Never. She's… shit, she ain't comin' back, ain't her…" With every word, Daryl seemed to deflate and Rick could see the fresh grief the words had summoned, his brothers face contorting as he fought back the pain. Daryl pulled in a shuddering breath, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging hard before flicking his wrist again at Rick, "Get the fuck away from me, man."

Rick waited until Daryl's breathing slowed, until his shoulders stopped shaking in a panicked rhythm before he replied quietly, "I wouldn't lie about this." He took a step forward as Daryl half turned to stare at him from beneath his overgrown hair, eyes barely discernible beneath the fringe, half hidden in shadow. Rick raised a hand cautiously, years of training as a cop preparing him for this moment, "You need to come with me. Now."

Daryl turned slowly, facing Rick again as his eyes took in his brother once more. Rick could see the growing tremors flicking across his shoulders and arms as Daryl fought with something deep inside, something wanting to break him open and watch him bleed. Rick met his eyes, watching as Daryl seemed to be searching for the truth on his face, looking for the lies. Rick held his gaze, nodding once, and after a moment something let go inside his friend and he started to walk towards Rick, nodding in return. Daryl's gaze grew stony again, his emotions concealed behind the wall he'd put up after Grady. Whatever he thought now, whatever pain he was going through, it was carefully concealed and Rick felt a lick of fear roll across the back of his neck as he turned to lead the way.

Before he knew it they were running, the pace slow enough to maintain their speed across the compound, Daryl's legs eating up the ground before them as Rick trotted behind, his eyes fixed on his brother's hunched form. Rick didn't have to tell him where to go, he seemed to sense it, sense her, as he ran straight for Glenn's, taking the steps in one jump.

Everyone spun towards them as they opened the door, eyes taking in Daryl's blank face and edging back to make way for him to head for the bedroom door. Carol emerged from the room and jogged quickly forward, wrapping him up in her arms as if he were a small child, soothing him against her shoulder as a dry sob escaped him before she let him pull away, his eyes now fixed on the door to the bedroom. They all watched him go, the whole room feeling like it was holding its breath as he slowly turned the knob and disappeared inside.

Daryl stood just beyond the door, his hand still clasped on the small round knob, his grip tight enough to make the cheap metal creak uncomfortably. She was lying on her side on the bed, a thin coverlet draped over her hips, her face, scarred and pale, cushioned on a pillow. Her blonde hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, almost tan from all the dirt and dust that had found a home in it. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even. For a long moment, his numb brain just counted the breaths, in and out, trying to find something to focus on other than the obvious. Something that wouldn't rip him apart as soon as he let it hit him, something that wouldn't destroy what fragile sanity he'd managed to rebuild after…

He forced himself to release the door knob, to take a step, one single step. Then he fell, unceremoniously and hard onto his knees beside the bed, his face coming to rest at level with hers. After everything he'd done to get her back, after losing her like that, to see her here before him, alive and sleeping instead of cold and motionless in his arms, he couldn't even understand it. He wanted to touch her, to prove she was real but was just as afraid to reach out and find she was a ghost, his torment finally come to take him home.

"Daryl?" Carol's voice called dimly from behind him and he realized he'd been completely unaware of anything else except the tiny shadows her eyelashes made on her cheeks and the way her exhales whistled lightly through her nose, unaware of anyone, anything else in this world except her.

"I know this is hard but you should rest so when she wakes up you can be with her," Carol suggested quietly, her thin hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

Daryl felt himself flinch but his mind barely registered her words, only enough to reply hoarsely, "I ain't leavin' 'er."

He felt Carol's hand squeeze lightly before disappearing, the faint click of the door announcing that they were alone again, just as they always should have been. He would've liked that, to have stayed in that funeral home, just the two of them letting the rest of the world go by. She'd sing and play that shitty piano, he'd hunt around the property and keep her safe. Maybe she would've smiled at him some more, maybe they would've finish that conversation they'd started over pigs feet and jam, the candles making everything orange and gold and his heart hammering into his chest as he'd allowed her to see him, to let go of that final brick and not caring as it all crumbled around him as long as she was on the other side of that wall.

He focused on her again, watching the color return to her cheeks in slow, gradual blends of white and pink. That future was gone, misplaced, but here, now maybe they could find it again. Maybe she would still be able to see him through it all, bring him back from that precipice he'd been tiptoeing ever since he'd lost her that first time, chasing that car until he had nothing more to give and knowing she was beyond his reach, too good for this world. Without thinking he reached for the small hand lying just below her chin, his fingers stopping just short of hers where he could feel the heat of her skin, the light stirring in the air as she exhaled.

His knees began to ache, a pain he welcomed as long as he could stay here with her, too afraid to leave her side again. He shifted into a more comfortable position, resting his side against the bed frame, looking up into her face, their hands side by side. He suddenly felt more tired than he'd felt in months, the realization that she was beside him in this strange place and he wasn't alone anymore finally taking hold. He fought the gradual increasing heaviness of his eyelids for a long time, fighting for glimpses of her gold hair, her pink cheeks, until finally he lost and disappeared into restful oblivion.

Beth woke up suddenly with a sharp, quiet gasp after hours of drifting aimlessly in a foggy nothingness. Her eyes flew open, trying to focus and seeing only blurs. She closed them again, instead focusing on what she could feel, hoping that would give her a clue as to where she was and what had happened to her. Her head ached, an almost welcoming pain that had been her constant companion for weeks beyond count. Beneath her body was something soft, something comfortable that absorbed her heat and held it against her. A bed, maybe a blanket or couch? She moved her hand slightly to feel for the material and felt her skin brush against the unmistakable feeling of another's hand, fingers against fingers. Her eyes flew open, this time her vision less blurred, and she turned her head as quietly as she could to see who was beside her, friend or foe.

Her racing heart slowed only to beat harder, her face cracking into an unfamiliar smile that hurt her cheeks and her eyes tear. It seemed right, normal to find him dozing beside her bed, his hand near her's but not quite touching. The scraggly hair longer now but the same deep brown that she'd stared at from behind all those weeks, following him through the trees. There were more lines on his face than she remembered and she frowned at them as if her disapproval alone could make them disappear. He'd been hurting all this time, just as she had, she could see it as clear as if it were written across his face.

His lips seemed permanently downturned, there were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and creases at the corners from squinting too much. She wanted to reach out, smooth away all those lines, take them back and turn back time to when they'd been alone in that funeral home, together and safe and happy. He'd come for her, they all had. They'd braved the heavily guarded walls of Grady to bring her home and she'd failed them all in a moment of infinite stupidity. For a moment she had to look away from his worn face, her shame seeming to swallow her whole as it had been doing since the first time she'd woken after being shot.

She focused on the room around her, wondering at its apparent cleanliness and furnished nature. Who lived here, was she safe? She glanced over at her guardian and smiled softly to herself, knowing she was, of course she was. Whenever he was there she would be okay. She'd gotten out of that funeral home alive, bum ankle and all, because he'd turned himself into walker bait, and all along while she waited for her chance to break out of the hospital, to find her family again, to find him, never letting herself believe he was dead, bitten or scratched, turned. She'd never even considered it, not him, not this man that had kept her safe as they'd run and run, through trees and fields, only a knife and bow to keep them alive. She knew he'd get out, knew he'd be coming for her, hoping she would get out before he found her, not wanting to turn that place into another trap for him to have to sacrifice himself to get her out.

She didn't know how long she lay there, her hand resting alongside his, her eyes tracing every line of his face as he slept, feeling safe for the first time in so long. A long sigh drew her mind from introspection to refocus on him as his eyes opened so slowly that she wondered they could open at all. He needed to sleep more but he jerked up suddenly, his head whipping around to look at her.

Their eyes met, his slightly wild and surprisingly alert and hers so full of tears that she could barely see. For a moment all she could do was stare, watch the emotions flicker across his face: hope, pain, relief, anger, disbelief, shock.

Then she smiled, let go of her control on herself and let the tears flow freely now, as she whispered, "I came back."

And just like that she was in his arms, so tight around her she could barely breathe and never had air seemed so unnecessary as it did just then. She could smell sweat on his, oil and cigarettes. Her hands gripped his neck, fingers clasped around whatever pieces of ragged hair she could lay claim to as she held on to him, pulling him so close that she could no longer tell where she ended and he began.

He pulled back suddenly, looked down into her upturned face, thumbs skating lightly across her cheeks, as he mumbled, "You ain't real, can't be."

"I am," She assured him, not even trying to contain the smile that now stretched her cheeks and made her face muscles ache. "I came…"

But the words were stolen as his mouth covered hers, his lips rough, crushing and desperate but everything she needed, answering every question she'd had since being stolen away from him. She returned the kiss with her own desperation, pulling him close to her again, whispering his name against his lips when he began to pull away, and smiling when he pulled her tighter to him in response, so close she couldn't breathe.

Hours or minutes passed, indistinguishable from each other, and she finally let him pull away just far enough so that he could move to sit beside her on the bed but not so far that he couldn't pull her close into his side with one strong arm, cheek resting lightly against the side of her head, her legs curled up over his knees so her whole body was turned into his, both of them wrapped around each other. She reached for his hand and wrapped it in her own, raising it to kiss the scarred knuckles and press it to her cheek so he could feel the warmth there.

"Ya alright?" He asked in a low voice, graveled and hoarse. She felt his fingers tighten around hers as he waited and she smiled as she moved her head from where it rested against his chest to look up at him.

"Yeah, I'm okay," She replied quietly, pausing for a moment before reaching out a hand to smooth away the hair hanging in his face as she asked, "Are you?"

He shrugged a little, glancing over at her before answering, "Now. Wasn't right for a long time but…" His words trailed away and she knew what he meant, had lived it herself.

"I know, me too," She whispered, leaning her head against him again, relishing the way his arm wrapper tighter around her shoulders in response. They sat in silence for a long time, his thumb tracing small, barely perceptible patterns across her skin, and she listened to his breathing, so happy to be home.

Later in the evening, Carol quietly opened the door to Beth's room, trying not to make too much noise in case she was still resting. Daryl hadn't reappeared since he'd first gone inside and she was worried for her friend, worried what this could do to him if Beth was different. They didn't know what the girl had gone through to get here, what damage had been done by the bullet she'd taken to the head. Concerned, Carol edged into the room and looked towards the bed, stopping in her tracks as she took in the sight.

Daryl was on the bed now, the small blonde facing him, tucked under one heavy arm with her fingers wrapped around the edges of his vest, face buried just below his chin, breathing evenly as she slept. Daryl was sleeping too and although she had expected that the pair had gotten close in the weeks between the prison and Terminus, his proximity to Beth was shocking. Carol noted how Daryl's face was completely relaxed as he slept, his arms wrapped around Beth, tightly keeping her close even as he slept. She'd never known him to sleep more than a few hours at a time and restlessly at that from what she had seen and now, to see him like this, she had to smile. They looked right together, she realized, comfortable and safe in each other's arms. In that moment, she began to understand what he'd been missing this whole time and knew that as bad as the separation had been for Daryl, it must have been the same for Beth.

She carefully backed out of the room, closing the door silently behind her and setting up watch to ensure they remained undisturbed. They deserved nothing less after everything they'd been through and she intended to make sure they were given all the time in the world.


End file.
